Fire to a Cold World
by sayrahsunshine
Summary: Syriana Lavellan always felt a connection to the mysterious apostate in her midst. But never truly accepted what that meant. Join them in their trials and adventures of love, friendship and despair. Rated M for later chapters.


It was less than a second, maybe half a second, but it changed everything. She dreamt of him again. Every night for the past week she had seen his haunting, beautiful image in the Fade. Their secret kiss burned into her memories. It was plaguing her dreams, and now her waking thoughts.

Did he know the affect he had on her? He must, she rationalized. After all, it was not a one sided affair.

Syriana sighed at the memory of his strong arms wrapped around her, kissing her until stars burst behind her eyelids. She could almost feel his embrace and his soft lips pressing down on her. All of this, from a kiss committed in the Fade of all places, had her melting into one flustered, blushing mess.

This is getting ridiculous.

She slowly pulled herself out of bed and over to her desk to review paperwork. She stared at one paper for a while and put it down gingerly. Today they were to travel to the Exalted Plains to help Solas' spirit friend. A spirit of Wisdom.

This will be the first time traveling together again after a full week. Syriana couldn't help but be abuzz with excitement. Oh, how she'd missed him.

Though, from how he reacted before, she thought it best to keep that to herself; until he was ready.

She began to get ready for the day. First her under clothes, and then her armor. Tailoring her outerwear to be the perfect fit was a new experience for their armorer. Her build didn't fit most elven wear. She wasn't slim and lean as an elf should be. Instead she was petite and built and stood at 5'3". Her hips were wide and her bust was large. The only thing slim about her would have been her waist. Her hourglass figure and short legs caught her a lot of flak back in the days she traveled with her clan.

Druffalo legs, they called them. Funny, though she almost always felt their stares on her backside when she wasn't looking after catching that insult.

Her short blood red hair swept over her right ear and down her neck. Her bold eyebrows held a small quirk making it seem like she always held a secret. Her thick lips tilted upward in a small smirk as she applied her dark maroon lipstick.

Her battle face was on. Ready to take on the day.

It didn't take her long to get down to the rotunda where she found Solas painting languidly at one of his newest murals.

She smiled as she watched his hands make swift movements as he drew line after line.

"Aneth ara…," Syriana greeted him softly, making her presence known.

Solas ears visibly perked up and he whirled around, "Inquisitor! I did not expect you for some time."

"I'm sorry for interrupting. Please, don't stop on my account," she smirked as Solas dropped his paint brush in his flustered state.

Good. I'm not the only one. Her smile grew.

Solas quickly gained back his calm demeanor and smiled charmingly at the Inquisitor.

"Excuse me my clumsiness. You caught me unawares. Not many can sneak up on me," he teased.

Syriana laughed brightly, "Who said I was sneaking?" She kept her grin and stepped a few steps closer. Close enough to see the tips of the elf's ears turn into a lovely shade of pink.

"I came down here to remind you that we set off to the Exalted Plains today," she said.

"Ah," he mumbled, shifting from foot to foot. "Yes, I'll get my pack ready." And immediately he set to work, completely forgetting the few moments of flirting.

Yes, how inconsiderate of you, Syri. He's worried for his friend and here you are acting like an adolescent girl.

"All right. I am ready when you are, Inquisitor," Solas announced, pack strapped to his back and staff in hand.

Syriana gave a curt nod and turned around to walk out the door, Solas in tow.

They took Cassandra and Cole along for the journey. It was a day's trek over to the spot Solas marked on the map. They spent most of the walk in silence, listening only to one another's footsteps in the dust.

Once they reached the area where Solas' friend was being held, Syriana could feel the tension coming off of him in droves.

"My friend!" he cried as he stared up at the huge Pride demon magically secured ahead.

Cassandra gasped, "Look at the size of it."

"Anger, hate, violence. What is this? What are these feelings? Why can't I move?" Cole murmured under his breath.

"The mages turn your friend into a demon...," she said.

"Yes," he said, pain clear in his voice.

"You said your friend was a spirit of Wisdom. Not a fighter."

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose!"

"So they summoned it for something so opposed to its own nature that it was corrupted. Fighting."

A short and plump mage began to walk toward them, gaining their attention.

"Let us ask them," Solas declared in barely controlled rage.

The mage attempted to explain and ask for lyrium potions but was quickly silenced by Solas.

"Shut. Up." He growled through gritted teeth. "You summoned it to protect you from the bandits."

"I—Yes," the mage said in a defeated tone.

"The summon circle! We break the circle, we break the binding."

"Understood!" Syriana grasped her staff, ready for the fight.

"We must hurry!" Solas yelled, charging toward the circle, staff at the ready.

Syri, Cassandra and Cole followed after him, going to one pillar at a time. Syriana narrowly missed a smack to the face by one of the demons long talons as it thrashed and roared.

They quickly made work of the remained five pillars and the circle broke in an explosion of light.

The Pride demon vanished and shrunk in a small green colored spirit with glowing eyes.

Solas spoke softly to his friend, sorrow sinking in his shoulders the further the conversation went on.

Syriana tried her best not to eavesdrop but the smooth, flawless Elvhen falling from their lips held her attention.

And then… it was gone, dissipated into the wind.

"I heard what it said. It was right. You did help it," she consoled in a hushed tone.

He nodded slightly, "Now… I must endure."

"Let me know if I can help," she said.

He stood up with a whimsical, slight smile on his face, "You already have."

Then his face turned angry once more, "All that remains now is them." He turned towards the mages and conjured a huge fire ball in his hands, " **You** tortured and killed my friend!"

Syriana pondered stopping him for a moment, just a moment. But, in the end, she let Solas let loose his rage and incinerate them all to a crisp.

"Damn them all!" He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "I need some time alone. I will meet you back as Skyhold."

She nodded solemnly. "Ma nuvenin, lethallan."

They watched him walk away in silence.


End file.
